


More Fierce Than Fire

by Leahelisabeth (fortheloveofcamelot)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Badass Charlie, Broken Bones, Burns, Community: ohsam, Dragons, Gen, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, OhSam 2015 Fanworks Challenge, Schmoop, Serious Injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-04 09:22:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4132263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fortheloveofcamelot/pseuds/Leahelisabeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlie never knows what to expect when visiting the Winchesters in their brand new Batcave but it certainly isn't the touch of fire, an injured Dean and no sign of Sam.  And she certainly never thought it would be her turn to be the hero.</p>
            </blockquote>





	More Fierce Than Fire

**Author's Note:**

> This story is slightly AU and is set right after "As Time Goes By." It assumes that Charlie has been to the bunker at least twice before "Pac-Man Fever."

Charlie knew something was wrong even before she could see the entrance to the bunker. First, the smell of smoke began drifting through her open window. As she drew closer, she began noticing the trees. It was the middle of summer and the trees should be thick with leaves but they were scorched bare. She was speeding now. It might be nothing. It could be a simple grassfire. It is Kansas after all. But she also knew there was a secret bunker full to the brim with only partially recatalogued magical artefacts and the damage grew more complete as the miles grew shorter.

The earth was blackened outside the bunker door, the soil fused to a sheet of black glass at the threshold. The doors hung off their hinges, a giant hole melted through the centre and rivulets of molten iron slowly cooling on the scorched earth.

Charlie leapt out of the car, not even waiting to make sure the door closed behind her. “SAM! DEAN! ANSWER ME!” she shouted. The heat of the ground struck up through the soles of her shoes. She knew she should probably get in her car and come back with a fire truck. How could they possibly have survived this? But WInchesters are hard to kill and she couldn’t leave without knowing. Against her better judgement, she wet her shirt with a bottle of water she had in her purse, drew it up over her mouth and nose, and ran quickly over the hot ground into the darkness.

The fire damage was not nearly as bad inside. It seemed the destruction at the entrance was because of the explosion when the doors finally collapsed. She followed the trail of debris deep into the bunker. “SAM! DEAN!” she shouted. She was growing more apprehensive by the second. There were no fires burning but the damage was severe. Floor tiles were cracked and broken. Everything not fastened down was strewn about. As she crept through the kitchen, she discovered that no plates or cups remained whole. There were massive gouges in some of the wooden furniture, possibly from claws. And she couldn’t ignore the splashes of dark red that she was hoping was spilled wine, but most likely wasn’t. She knew it was going to be really bad when she followed the trail right through their living space and into the basement, and then through the basement towards one of the many supernatural vaults.

“Sam? Dean?” she whispered. A moan answered her call from a dark corner by the door of one of the vaults. Her stomach lurched as she saw the numerous sigils carved into the doorframe. Whatever had been in there, it probably shouldn’t be running around free. The door had blown off its hinges and Charlie could just see the shape of a jean clad leg and leather boot poking out from under it.

“Shit!” she yelled as she rushed over and tried to lever the door up. It was heavy and for a moment she was sure she wasn’t going to be able to lift it, or she was but not all the way and she would drop it on whoever was underneath.

“Sam?” a smoke roughened voice broke the silence. “That you? Get me outta here, man.”

“Dean? It’s Charlie, Are you hurt or just stuck?” Charlie pulled debris away from one end of the door to see if she could see his face.

“Can’t really tell. Concussion, definitely. Ribs, maybe? Can’t really tell until I can get this thing off and take a full breath,” Dean wheezed.

“I don’t know if I can lift it off you,” Charlie confessed.

“It’s ok, just lift it up enough so I can roll out. You can do it, Charlie,” Dean gasped.

It took a while, but Charlie finally managed to life the door enough to free Dean. She let it go with a crash and turned to see Dean gasping on the floor, blood pouring out of several deep gashes on his chest and stomach. “Shit, Dean?”

“First aid kit…” Dean gasped. “In the kitchen.”

Charlie ran back up the stairs and to the kitchen and back in record time. She dropped to her knees beside Dean, practically dropping the kit. She tore it open and packaged gauze square flew everywhere. She tore a couple open and mopped up the blood. “These are deep, Dean. You’re going to need them stitched.”

Dean leaned his head back against the floor and closed his eyes in pain. “Get Sam. He can do it. I’ll be fine, Charlie.”

“Was he out of the bunker when this happened? I’ll try to call him,” she reached for her purse where it was lying haphazardly on the floor.

Dean’s eyes popped open. “You didn’t see him? He was right here when the stasis field broke. He had the sword in his hand when I last saw him. I figured he was disposing of the body.”

“I didn’t see anything but fire damage. Someone melted off your front doors. Whatever monster left here, it was alive. And when have you ever known Sam to run off to dispose of a body before checking on you?” Charlie tried to keep the panic off her face but the growing look of horror on Dean’s face probably meant she was not succeeding.

Dean struggled to pull himself up to a sitting position. “Shit! Shit! Shit! What if that thing took him? I gotta go after it!”

Charlie was worried by how easy it was to push down and keep Dean on his back. “You aren’t going anywhere. That thing tore up your stomach pretty good. I wouldn’t be surprised if there was muscle damage. There is no way you are walking out of here on your own power.”

“Damnit, Charlie. You are going to have to do it,” Dean gasped, finally giving up on sitting.

“But…your wounds…someone has to take care of them.” Charlie pushed down on the gauze covering Dean’s torn flesh.

Dean grunted. “Leave the first aid kit. But you have to go after Sam. I can take care of it enough to survive. It won’t be comfortable but we can’t leave my brother to die out there.”

Charlie took a deep breath to settle her nerves. “You’re right, of course. What the hell is it? How do I kill it?”

Dean closed his eyes and for a second Charlie was worried he had passed out. “I think it’s a Dragon. It looked like one. Had wings…and a tail. I don’t know how those Men of Letters bastards trapped it but they had it in some kind of time-lock. Sam called it a stasis field. Damn nerds don’t label anything. The sword was the key and I picked it up. Fucker came for me the moment I moved it. Grabbed me and tossed me out the door…clawed me up good. Sam shoved me behind the door and went for the sword. That’s when I passed out and woke up under the door.”

“Ok,” Charlie took a deep breath. “There is a sword. Is it a magic sword? Do you think it will kill it?”

“We’ve gotta try something,” Dean tried to sit up again but only got a few inches upright before he whimpered and fell back. “Shit, you’re right. I think it tore through one of my abdominals.”

“Stay there, Dean. Don’t be an idiot.” Charlie caught something glinting out of the corner of her eye at the bottom of the stairs. “I think I see it.”

She darted over to the stairs and grabbed it. She held it up and she and Dean stared at each other in mutual horror. The very tip of the blade was coated in black ichor but the hilt was coated with the reddish brown of quickly drying human blood.

* * *

Sam was uncomfortably warm. The orange of flames danced on the other side of his eyelids. It was enough to make his tender head pound. He kept his eyes closed as he tried to evaluate his situation. He didn’t remember what had happened. Maybe he and Dean had been cleaning out a storage room? And something about a sword? Shit, his head ached.

There was a rough scraping sound, like iron on stone. Sam fought the impulse to open his eyes in case the thing, whatever it was, was just waiting for him to wake up. He wiggled his toes, satisfied that everything was in good working order. He could run if he needed to. His ribs were sore, but nothing was broken. Left shoulder was fine, if a little bruised. Right shoulder…BAD IDEA! Sam choked back the shout as fire shot straight from the side of his neck to his fingertips. It took him a while to get his breathing back under control. He was afraid to look at it. Now that he had moved it, every nerve was on fire and the pain threatened to make him vomit.

He steeled himself and opened his eyes a sliver and for a moment could hardly see through the tears. He blinked them away and focussed on his right shoulder. It had been mangled. In places, the skin and muscle were cut down to the bone. It had been bleeding, heavily if the dizziness was any indication, but it was no longer. The wounds had been cauterized by what looked like an open flame. The edges of the wounds were blackened and curled and blisters covered his forearm and right side of his chest. He did vomit then, turning onto his left shoulder and heaving helplessly onto the cave floor. He couldn’t stop. Each movement sent waves of pain into his damaged shoulder. By the time he managed to get his stomach under control, he was coated in a thick layer of sweat and he was shivering despite the overly warm cave he was lying in. If he wasn’t already in shock, it was coming.

Hot air blew over his cold body and he was tempted to roll toward it. He forced his eyes open again to find the source of the warmth and was immediately scrambling to put his back to the wall of the cave. He knocked his shoulder against a rock and had to fight to remain conscious. He had to be delirious. There was no way a fucking dragon had him pinned against the wall of the cave. But it was there and solid and looking at him. It prodded at him with one curious claw. Sam groaned as the point of the claw lodged itself in his pectoral muscle. The monstrous lizard snorted, reared back, turned, and swatted Sam with his tail. Sam felt the thick muscle crack a few of his bruised ribs, then he was flying through the air. He had the presence of mind to bring his left arm up to protect his head and then he was bouncing off the rock wall and collapsing to the ground, cracked ribs and humerus breaking on impact.

He couldn’t breathe. Oh god, he needed to breathe. The impact had driven the air from his lungs and his rib cage resisted all effort at refilling them. The monster came after him, mouth open and throat glowing with coming fire. Sam forced his battered body into as tight a ball he could muster and even as the Dragon reared back and began to flame, his sharp hunter’s mind noticed a patch of scales on the belly by the left foreleg that glowed a little brighter than the rest.

It didn’t blow fire on him directly, maybe a few feet above him. Enough that Sam knew his hair would be singed and he could feel new blisters pop up all over his back and shoulders. He barely heard the new voice over the sound of his own screaming.

“Hey, Dragon! Leave him alone!”

Sam managed to open his eyes once more to see his favourite little red head toting a sword almost as long as she was. “Charlie, no!” he choked, blood spattering on the ground in front of him. He still couldn’t breathe. He thanked whatever deity was listening that Charlie was fast and stronger than she looked. She darted under the dragon’s tail as it whipped toward her and headed straight for Sam.

“No…” Sam gasped. “Get out…can’t…help…”

“Fat chance, Sam. Be a good damsel and shut the hell up. Or tell me how to kill this thing.” Charlie stretched her hand out to touch him but the Dragon was stalking her and she couldn’t turn her back.

“Scales…glow…fire….weak spot.” Sam managed to choke out between desperate gasps for air.

“Got it, I’ll have you out of here in a jiffy,” Charlie grinned and stood, sword held in front of her.

“Careful…” Sam managed with the last of his strength, eyes growing dim.

He didn’t see much of the fight but he heard it: the roar of the Dragon, Charlie shouting, “Come and get me, bitch!” There was the crackling of flames and the whoosh of air as those flames were released. And finally, as Sam was on the brink of unconsciousness, a mighty roar of pain from the giant lizard and the pain of falling rocks as the beast succumbed to the throes of death.

Charlie was beside him then. She didn’t touch him but his nerves were so on fire he could feel her hands hovering over him. It took every bit of his strength to roll himself to his back, grimacing as the position popped some of the blisters on his shoulder blades.

“Sam, I can’t carry you,” She wept.

“S’it dead?” he whispered.

“Yeah, as a doornail. You saved my ass. I don’t think I would have had a chance to figure out it’s weakness so quickly. So you’re not allowed to die because heroes have songs written about them and stories told and you need to be able to hear them,” Charlie babbled.

“Gonna…write song…f’me?” Sam tried to grin at her even though his chest felt like a rather large boulder had come to settle on it.

“You’ve never heard me try to sing. I could do cake. Yeah, I could bake you a cake. I do a mean Death by Chocolate. I put pudding right in the center and everything. So you had better be alive to eat it.” She finally reached out and put her hand on the less bruised side of his face, trying to get him to look at her.

“D’n,” Sam moaned.

“He’s going to be fine. He’ll be way better once we get you back to him. Come on, try to get on your feet. I can help you stay there but you’ve gotta help me here,” she was still not brave enough to try touching his shoulders or arms,.

Sam looked up at her earnestly. “D’n…pie.”

“Yes, fine, I’ll bake a pie. I’ll bake three, pumpkin, cherry, and apple. Or maybe pecan. Lemon meringue? Do you prefer fruit or cust….WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?!!” Charlie screeched, throwing herself over Sam’s body as a weary looking man in a trench coat suddenly appeared.

“Cas,” Sam closed his eyes and finally let himself pass out.

* * *

Dean was worried. Charlie had been gone for hours. Cas had finally shown up ten minutes ago, unable to formulate an excuse for why he had taken so long, his eyes glassy and unfocussed. He had healed Dean with a touch but had told him to wait for him, that his strength would not be enough to slay the Dragon and carry two people. Dean would have been worried if his mind wasn’t screaming at Sam, “don’t be dead. Please don’t be dead.”

Between one breath and another, Castiel fluttered into the bunker, Sam draped over one shoulder and Charlie clinging to his arm with one hand and to the sword with the other. Charlie was filthy, covered in soot and inky Dragon’s blood. Dean was running forward as he saw Castiel stagger.

"What the hell, Cas?" he shouted when he saw Sam’s mangled and blackened shoulder. “Why didn’t you use your mojo?”

Castiel shook his head tiredly. “I couldn’t. I fixed the internal bleeding and the broken bones but he was burned with Dragon’s fire. I can’t heal that. They are purgatory flames. It is alien to me.”

“Shit,” Dean reached forward to take his brother from the angel, but thought better of it. “Put him in my bed.”

Castiel disappeared. Dean and Charlie looked at each other and then were sprinting for Dean’s room, the sword clattering to the floor behind them.

Sam was bleeding all over the covers. He was shivering and his breath was coming in short whimpers. Dean looked at him and felt he had been punched in the stomach. Charlie didn’t look any better.

“Hey Sammy,” Dean sat down on his memory foam mattress, careful not to jostle Sam’s burnt shoulder. He brushed singed, crispy hair away from Sam’s face. Sam opened his eyes but it was clear he was lost to the pain.

“Cas, there has to be something you can do,” Dean whispered roughly. “His muscles are shredded. I don’t know if he’ll use this arm ever again.”

“Dean…” Castiel looked lost. “If I could, I would. You would have to remove every trace of fire damage from the wounds.”

“If we did, you could fix that? You could mend his muscles and replace the missing tissue?” Dean asked hopefully.

“Yes, it would be possible. But it would be painful for Sam.”

“Then that is what we will do. Charlie, go get the first aid kit from downstairs. Cas, there is a bag of ice in the freezer. Fill a basin with cold water and ice and bring it back here. I want Sam as numb as possible and it will help slow any bleeding,” Dean channeled his inner John Winchester and barked orders, never ceasing the gentle stroking of Sam’s hair.

Charlie came back with the kit a minute after Cas returned with the ice water. Dean dug through the kit and paled when he found the broken glass bottle that used to contain liquid morphine. “Cas, can you?”

Castiel was already shaking his head. “If I go, I won’t be strong enough to return and heal your brother.”

“The pain will kill him,” Dean pleaded with Cas.

“I can keep his heart beating and his lungs drawing in air as long as it takes you to remove the damaged tissue. But you need to hurry. My time is…limited.”

Dean took a deep breath. “Let’s do this.”

Sam screamed at the first touch of the ice water and he would not stop.

“Can you knock him out, Cas?” Dean asked desperately.

Castiel leveled his gaze at Dean. “I can, but I am not certain he will wake again if I do.”

“Shit,” Dean muttered. “Charlie, you’re going to have to do this. I’ll have to hold him down.”

“What? No! I can’t! I’ll hold him down. He won’t be strong enough to throw me off,” Charlie panicked.

“The numerous black eyes I have gotten in my lifetime suggest that I should never underestimate the strength of my little brother in pain. You’ve got to do it, Charlie. It’s the only way to save him.”

Charlie sighed and steeled herself for what she knew was coming. Dean straddled his brother’s hips and grasped his forearms firmly, wincing when he gripped blistered flesh.

Charlie picked up the scalpel and began to clear the burnt tissue from the deep claw marks first. Sam was screaming and writhing under Dean and Charlie knew she never would have managed to hold him. She could hardly see through her tears but she wiped them on her sleeves and kept going. “The sooner I finish this, the quicker he can be healed,” she muttered repeatedly under her breath, trying to ignore the corded muscles in Sam’s neck as he screamed himself hoarse.  
Blood spattered out of Sam’s mouth onto the pillow case. 

Dean glared at Castiel. “I thought you fixed the internal bleeding.”

“I did. It’s his throat. I can fix that too. Keep going Charlie,” Castiel gasped, his face grey with strain.

Charlie set aside the scalpel and picked up the scrub brush. The claw marks were clear, just leaving the blisters and this was the quickest way to take off a layer of skin.

They could no longer hear Sam’s screams, just the rush of air through a swollen throat. He was still fighting with everything he had to buck Dean off. Charlie steeled herself to his pain and kept scrubbing.

It felt like years before Castiel put his hand over Charlie’s. “It’s enough,” he said softly.

Charlie threw the brush across the room and collapsed to the side of the bed. Dean kept holding onto his brother as Castiel placed his hand on the side of Sam’s head and slowly Sam’s muscles began to knit back together. Castiel shook and sweat broke out on his forehead. Sam’s skin became whole. It was just shy of his normal tan when Cas broke contact, gasping. 

Castiel stood. “I am sorry. I have resisted heaven’s call as long as I could. Sam will be fine. He will sleep. I could not replace all the blood he lost.” And he was gone.

Dean and Charlie looked at each other, completely drained. Together, they pulled Dean’s thick comforter out from under Sam. Thankfully, he had not bled through to the sheets below. Charlie wandered down the hall to grab Sam’s blanket while Dean flipped over Sam’s bloody pillow so the clean side was under his head. Then they both crawled in on either side of Sam, Charlie on the left, Dean on the right. They were asleep within moments.

Sam woke hours later. He felt pretty good. Cas must have done a good job. He was maybe a little lightheaded still from the blood loss but he could probably even get up. Then he opened his eyes, and saw Dean’s face, drooling on the pillow next to him. He could feel Charlie’s tiny body snuggled under his left arm and, when he tried to lift up without waking him, he discovered their hands clasped together across his back. He smiled and relaxed back onto his pillow. He could sleep a little longer.

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for a prompt by center_galaxy at the ohsam community. The prompt was:  
> Gen, any season with Charlie. Charlie heads to the bunker intending to have a great day with the boys only to find the place in shambles, Dean injured and Sam missing. It's up to her to be the hero that she's so often read about and rescue Sam from whatever creature has him. Hurt Sam however you like (but no permanent injury please!)


End file.
